Three Friends & A Last-Minute Andean Adventure
Date: 26 December 2010
Location: The hallway of Hospedaje Turistico Recoleta (aka, "Javier's Place"), Cusco
It seems like with every passing year that I travel, my ability to maintain a
decent travel log gets progressively worse. This entry might unfortunately be the only one I
have describing my Christmas holiday here in South America. At the end of the day, it's reasonably difficult to the find the time and energy to formally compose when so many exciting stories are being actively written around me, even now. Nevertheless, it does feel oddly refreshing to sit at a computer terminal after sitting through (not one, but two) 16 hour bus rides, ice cold showers at
5am, and a lack of sleep that even surpases my days studying at Cal. And yet, I can't
help but feel... high! The locals say it's likely from all of those coca leaves I've
been chewing along the way. But don't fret, I won't be returning with white powder in my
nose. Honestly, I think it might be a case of "the holiday season". I've typically done my
traveling in the summer months while spending winter break with the
family at home. This year, I decided to spice things up (entirely at the last minute, as I'll later explain) and make a break from the mundane. I've lived through my fair share of foreign holidays and exotic festivals, but how exactly the Christmas holiday is celebrated outside of the US was a mystery to me. In the spirit of curiosity, as well as already wanting an adventure after my first quarter of graduate school, I decided to take off with two recently-made friends. Yes, it does mean spending the holiday without my parents, who weren't too pleased with the idea of me flying off. No, they weren't upset that I was going to be away from extended family this holiday, but rather because I apparently didn't invite them to come get away from it all with me. Haha, thus is life in a travel-oriented household. I'm sure they'll be satiated once I bring back exotic gifts this year.
This trip was completely random. I basically just returned
from an
East African Safari / Arabian Peninsula road trip back in July with no immediate intentions
of traveling until the pocketbook was at least partially filled again. But I actually have
to thank my quiet Taiwanese roommate (Shun), wanting to do
something exciting over the winter break, for setting in motion a series of events that I certainly will never regret. As a foreign student studying here, making the most of his breaks was crucial. He mentioned two months ago that he wanted to visit "this place", pointing to a picture of Machu Picchu from one of my history books. It would cost him more
than double to make a trip to South America from his native Taiwan than from California. Over the next several weeks, I'd check in on him, asking how the planning was going and if he had researched more about his trip, to which he'd reply that hadn't figured anything out. Talking to him less than a month before the break, he pulled out his massive wheeled suitcase and explained that he'll ask for directions to Machu Picchu when he landed. That's when it dawned on me - my roommate was going to head off to Peru and probably never make it back, the image of him lost and rolling his luggage through some jungle popping into my mind. I was hesitant about traveling at this time, but when I learned he had never traveled before (apart from coming to the
US to study), I knew there was no way I could simply let him go out there in a naive daze. A couple weeks later, my ticket was purchased and I essentially had the whole trip organized, based on my own preferences since he had no idea what else to explore besides that fabled lost city. My parents would be most proud in knowing that the
travel gene has successfully been passed down without any mutations. Whether or not he learned from me just how complex travel logistics can be, I'll admit that it's been an insightful experience for myself in terms of independently researching and putting a trip together (whereas my family would normally divide up the work). A week before departure, we got a call from another Taiwanese friend of his (Chloe) that wanted to tag along, and her presence has
been a delightful if not hilarious addition.
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| Beautiful downtown Lima |
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| The old town center, the Plaza de Armas, at night |
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| One of many exquisite churches constructed following the Spanish conquest |
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| Skulls and bones in the catacombs. This was the illegal shot Chloe and I covertly captured |
So much has happened over the past two weeks that I'll have to keep the tale brief. We arrived in Lima at the Hotel Espana, an old Spanish mansion turned hostel crammed with Baroque furnishings and quite possibly the most comically gaudy hostel I've ever stayed in. We spent a great couple days bouncing around churches, museums, and historical monuments, as this city possesses one of the oldest, richest, and most significant histories in the New World. The funniest episode from that jaunt occurred when Chloe and I sneaked back into the subterranean catacombs of the Monastario de San Francisco to get
illegal footage of the piles of skulls and bones that haunted its dark chambers. The old district around the Plaza de Armas, with its bright yellow colonial facades, bustled with activity well into the evenings when trinket vendors and empanada stalls churned out their goods to crowded sidewalks. A chaotic, 16
hour bus ride that plowed right through the famed Nazca Lines, eventually dumped us off at the exquisite town of Arequipa,
situated at the foot of three massive volcanoes, whose quaint hacienda-style villas with cactus pot gardens imparted a delightfully Spanish frontier vibe. It's cobblestone streets and
alleys filled with shops and cafes almost seemed to give it a distinct European
quality while still retaining the exotic flavors of a Latin American village. It
was from here that we made a trip out to the dramatic Colca Valley, boasting the
world's third deepest canyon. It was here that the Peru as I envisioned it began
to emerge, with soaring mountain peaks and dramatic cliff faces cut deep
by pre-Columbian stone terraces filled with corn. The river was lined with villages inhabited by
indigenous people with weather-beaten faces, their women wearing vividly colored woven skirts, hats, and
bundles of produce tightly wrapped in blankets strung over their backs. Vicunas, llamas,
alpacas, flamingos, and an array of desert rodents were among some of the archetypal wildlife
we observed in this arid, cactus-filled landscape. We made some interesting
friends on this excursion - Alex from Australia, Lenka from the Czech Republic, and Malika and Katia of France - spending a playful afternoon splashing around at the thermal hot springs in the lazy village of Chivay
before downing a few pisco sours and partying in a semi-drunken stupor at a traditional restaurant (where some
of our folk dancing may have gotten out of control). We also spent other hilarious
times together, like desperately searching for condors at the top of the gorge and ecstatically screaming when one would finally be spotted in the distance.
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| Drove right through one of the Nazca Lines, which unfortunately doesn't look like anything from the ground |
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| Midnight pizza in a tiny alley pizzeria after a 16-hour bus ride to Arequipa |
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| The colonial town of Arequipa, at the base of the majestic Volcan Misti |
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| The dramatic volcanic desert landscape on the way to Colca Canyon |
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| Coca leaf tea, the safer alternative to cocaine |
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| A local shows us her lamb |
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| Seasonal marshes on the route to Colca |
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| Ancient terraces and farmland in the Colca valley |
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| The sleepy village of Chivay |
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| Indigenous women in traditional dress participate in a regional competition |
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| Chivay thermal pools with the Colca Crew |
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| A little girl wanted a picture with her llama |
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| Colca Canyon, supposedly the third largest in the world |
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| No photographable condors today, so we took a picture of ourselves instead |
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| Donning our traditional ponchos, we set night of crazy dancing in motion |
Concerning food, Peru is a gastronomic wonder with prices that would make you giddy with laughter. While those unfamiliar with its cuisine would assume the usual for a Latin American country (i.e., rice and beans), we've
actually treated ourselves to a variety of outstanding delicacies, including a literal mountain of corvina
cerviche in Lima, grilled alpaca steaks in Colca, loccro stew in Arequipa, and a truly divine chicharron dish here in Cusco. Being with Taiwanese, we felt compelled to dine in one of the
local Chinese restaurants here, collectively given the name "chifa". While it
certainly wasn't bad, I'm now debating whether Chinese food cooked by Mexicans
back home can be at all comparable to "Chinese" food prepared by Peruvians. We splurged for the sake of Christmas Eve by dining at Peruvian celebrity chef, Gaston Acurio's acclaimed restaurant
Chicha, here in Cusco, savoring the most flavorful and tender Andean ox tails I've ever tasted (sorry Mama!). But perhaps the most exciting foods we've had have been the indigenous street foods, including the delectable anticuchos (grilled skewered beef hearts) and the infamous cuy (whole
roasted guinea pig). I was the only one that tried the house pet, which was pleasantly crispy on the outside and lightly gamey in taste with a texture reminiscent of rabbit. I'd certainly go back for seconds.
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| A traditional Criollo (former African slave) breakfast of a whole fried fish, potatoes, a salad, bread, and papaya juice. $3 |
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| A mountain of Corvina cerviche, easily a $30 value at home. This tangy treasure, with a pisco sour - $14 |
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| A huge $6 plate of savory Chicharron Cusqueno I still dream about at night |
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| Andean ox tails and Lomo Saltado at celebrity chef, Gaston Acurio's restaurant Chicha |
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| A whole roasted guinea pig is the perfect size meal for one |
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| A village baker manages one oven for the town of Pisaq, where potatos and guinea pigs are frequently brought |
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| Alleys filled with grilled beef hearts, a Peruvian delicacy truly worthy of my approval |
About a week ago, we set out to make the journey to the
legendary lost city of Machu Picchu. Although, given that thousands of
people visit it every year, I'd hardly call it "lost" anymore. Nevertheless, going in playing the roll of Hiram Bingham still helped to spark my exploratory imagination, even as I battled my way around tacky tourists and bohemian backpackers alike. If I wasn't trying to cram a miniscule 2-week vacation into the middle of my PhD program, I would have instantly signed up for the famed "Inca Trail", a 3-4 day camping and trekking extravaganza that trudges up through jungled mountains, rewarding those who eventually complete it with the iconic and majestic view of Machu Picchu typically seen in books. After a full day of wandering through the stone ruins and snaking trails around Ollantaytambo, we chugged along via Peru Rail deep into jungles lining the Urubamba gorge and deep into the darkness. We arrived at the dimly-lit, cozy village of Aguas Calientes in the dead of night. Chloe had not been feeling well at all by the time we reached the hostel and at her request, I asked reception to call for a doctor. The doctor arrived, a squatty mustached man that spoke no English and seemed more like a shop keeper or taxi driver with an old fashioned medicine bag. Using my basic Spanish, I explained Chloe's symptoms to which he recommended giving her some sort of injection, Chloe sluggishly rolling up her sleeves to receive the shot. With the shot ready, he told me to tell her that he needed to administer it
in the other end. I'll never forget how hard I laughed. "Chloe, he has to shoot you in the butt". Shun and I turned around as Chloe reluctantly began to pull down her pants. By morning, she was feeling rich with health, albeit a hundred dollars poorer, and ready for a full day of exploring Peru's most famous landmark. Machu Picchu was as breathtakingly stunning as ever and I'm not even going to bother rambling on about it. I will however conclude that we were extremely lucky on two accounts. First, we visited the ruins on the only day that it didn't happen to rain, the envy of many people who visited just before and right after us, which granted absolutely picture-perfect views of the entire city without cloud obstruction. Second, we made it early enough in the morning to secure a coveted reservation to become three of the lucky 400 climbers per day to be granted access to Huayna Picchu, the 1200 ft pinnacle that hovers over the ancient city. It felt like an actual stairway to heaven that left me completely speechless (literally, as I foolishly completed the trek without any water and would later pass out).
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| Ruins of an Inca sun temple above the mountain town of Ollantaytambo |
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| An ancient fountain brings water down from the mountain where Inca houses are precariously perched |
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| Modern Incas in motion |
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| Catching the Peru Rail, which travels through the Sacred Valley from Cusco to the foot of Machu Picchu |
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| Early morning fog in the Sacred Valley |
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| The adorable village of Aguas Calientes, gateway to the Machu Picchu ruins, in the Urubamba gorge |
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| Aguas Calientes |
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| The Urubamba River |
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| Three friends at the iconic Machu Picchu vista point |
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| Llamas grazing in the ruins |
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| We hiked partially along the Inca Trail to get a glimpse of the snow-capped Andes rising above the jungle |
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| The crazy switch-back road leading up to the site |
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| Living life on the edge, taken from the top of Huayna Picchu |
I
am so grateful that I still retained some inkling of Spanish. Virtually
no one here speaks
English, which actually came as quite of a surprise to me considering
how extensive the tourism industry is, and I've been delighted to use
Spanish in every possible interaction with the locals. I noticed I've
also faced occassional difficulties where I'd start a
sentence in Spanish and, through some neuronal disconnection, finish
in Arabic. There have also been times I'd absentmindedly use Arabic
pronouns or intensifiers. Don't ask me why, but it's slowly been getting
better the longer I spend thinking solely in Spanish and I'm
nevertheless pleased with what three years of high school Spanish has
produced. As for my Taiwanese
friends, they'd be completely lost without me interpreting, further
supporting my decision to
come on this trip. However, even my intermediate speaking capabilities
hasn't completely spared me from embarrassment. The only time I recall
ever blushing in public occurred at a tiny
local picanteria in a "locals only" part of Cusco. We'd just hiked down
from the ruins of
Sacsaywaman through the scenic alleys above Cusco and were utterly famished, finally crashing down at
the table when I decided to order the first thing that met my eye on the
menu. "
Ubre".
Up until then, my Spanish was getting me around very nicely, but I was
completely clueless on this one. I asked the waitress to explain. A
barrage of Spanish flew right over my head before she finally paused,
smiled, and passionately began to fondle her breasts. I was seriously
shocked and even more confused, as we each looked at each other for some
sort of explanation. After a few seconds, I suddenly realized she was
physically referring to a cow's udder. Ok, battered and fried cow udder
over rice. Flustered
and oblivious, I pointed to her breast and said I'd take one of
those.
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| On the walk down from Sacsaywaman |
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| Massive stonework at the Sacsaywaman ruins |
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| The infamous "Ubre" incident, a delectable dish of fried cow udders |
Christmas in Cusco was nothing short of an utterly phenomenal cultural experience. In the three days leading up to Christmas, the entire mountain city filled with thousands of indigenous people from the countryside, decked to the nines in colorful handwoven textiles and bringing in truck loads of goods to be sold at the Santuranticuy holiday fair. The once empty central square of Cusco suddenly transformed over night into a gargantuan bazaar and outdoor market, with hundreds of tarp-covered stalls selling everything from tribal handicrafts and alpaca blankets to assorted cookware and discount clothing. Some sections of the market were devoted strictly to native peoples selling mosses, grasses, and twigs, meticulously collected high in the mountains and then brought down to the city for customers to purchase for use in constructing elaborate nativity scenes. My favorite part of the market was certainly the street food stands, selling scrumptious anticuchos of beef heart and chicken livers, as well as spicy roasted corn and salted potatoes. The intense shopping and eating went well into the evening, when the bustle of local activity culminated with fancy light shows being conducted outside Cusco's main cathedral. Christmas Day witnessed the city transform in the completely opposite way. Walking back to the central square in the morning, the three of us anticipated to see some sort of festive event, only to discover a completely empty city with not a living soul in sight. We were initially confused, slightly disenchanted, and about to return home when the towering church doors surrounding the plaza suddenly burst open and thousands of costumed people poured out into the streets, dancing and singing in a spectacle evocative of Carnival. The entire city resonated with merriment, finally answering my question as to how Christmas is celebrated elsewhere. And at least here in Peru, it's so much more fun than back home!
